


The Dark

by Gypsymoon77



Series: The Three Sisters Triology [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action & Romance, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 13:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2111262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gypsymoon77/pseuds/Gypsymoon77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An incident on a hunt may just lead to a change in Dean's relationship with his best friend.  Part One of Three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark

The stench was terrible. Dean Winchester had gotten sick before on hunts, but those times had been few and far between. He had been ill after his first kill, his father standing over him patiently waiting until he was done vomiting. The older he had gotten the better he had been able to control his gag reflex. But now, he wasn't quite sure if he would be able to manage. Of all the times to be hunting without Sammy...

Dean staggered backwards from the hulking creature. Moments before it had been Calli,a voluptuous, raven-haired brunette he had been chatting up in the local bar. Being on a hunt had never stopped him from hooking up before, and when she had turned her large, doe-like brown eyes towards him he had decided the monster that had been terrorizing the small mountain town could wait one more day to meet it's doom.

Unfortunately for Dean, Calli turned out to be that monster. The beast scuttled into the pool of light under the streetlamp, bringing it's stench with it. It was definitely still a she judging from her uncovered breasts, and while she still had her lovely face and sleek hair, the rest of her had morphed into a twisted blend of human and bird. Long talons made ominous scratching sounds against the pavement as she sort of hopped and shuffled towards him, like some grotesque robin out of a nightmare.

“Freakin' _harpy,”_ he muttered, scrambling to draw the demon blade from where it was tucked in his belt at the small of his back. It might be overkill, but it was all he had.

“Now, now, no need to call names, little Hunter,” crowed the harpy. Though she still had perfect, ruby, bow-shaped human lips, the words came out mangled and screeched. The noise sent a shiver down Dean's back.

Dean held the blade out between him and his opponent, shifting into an easy defensive position. The Greco-Roman monstrosity gave a birdlike tilt of her head and studied him momentarily. She balanced on one leg, holding up the other so he could clearly see the lethal talons that adorned her claws. Dean swallowed hard.

“Don't worry, Little Hunter, I'm not going to eat you straight away. That will wait until after the more pleasurable plans I have for you...”

Dean paused for a moment, recalling his trek into the mountains earlier that day. Under a large overhang he had found the remains of the two missing men along with twigs, feathers, and shiny beads and other knickknacks. Had Sammy been with him, he was sure his little brother would have figured it out much sooner. The bird-bitch was  _nesting...._

“Oh, hell no I ain't matin' with you!” the hunter yelled, his accent more pronounced in his disgust.

The harpy spread her wings, sending a rush of foul-scented air slamming into Dean's face. “You stupid male!” she shrieked. “You dare insult me?! I am Celaeno the Dark! You should be honored that I would even have you!”

She flung herself at him, slamming into him and forcing him to the ground. The combination of her weight and the stench from her oily wings seemed to drive the air from Dean's lungs. Her talons sunk deep into his sides, causing him to cry out in pain, and he could feel her muscles ripple as her wings stretched out in preparation to take flight. He struck out with the knife, but couldn't angle to get at anything vital. He had one moment of pure fear when he contemplated the fact that the harpy was about to fly off with him to her nest where things would go the way of a Lifetime Channel movie. 

There was a rustling whoosh sound of a second set of wings unfurling. Dean's stomach clenched with the horrifying idea that there was another one of these things and he was going to be eaten not by one harpy, but two. But then the weight on top of him was being lifted and he was gasping for breath. Celano let out a shriek of frustration, her wings beating furiously as she struggled against a very familiar figure in a trenchcoat.

Castiel's own wings were extended and fully visible, and Dean watched dumbstruck as the two winged creatures battled one another. They were tearing at each other, feathers floating in the air around them. The harpy sank her talons into Castiel's wing and wrenched hard, causing the angel to cry out in pain. 

At the sound of his friend's distress, Dean scrambled to his feet. He grimaced as the skin pulled around the talon punctures, and he could feel blood dribble from the wounds. Ignoring his injuries, he darted around behind the battling pair. Celano tried to break free and go for him, but Castiel wound his hand in her raven-hair and yanked with all of his strength, ripping out a great chunk hair and scalp and provoking the enraged harpy to turn her attention back to him.

Dean's first strike glanced off her oily wings, but the second hit home, plunging into the monster's back. The harpy cried out and tried to pull free from the angel's grasp to escape, but Castiel held her firmly even as she tore futilely at his wings. Dean continued his assault and her attempts to break free grew weaker. She stared at Cas with disbelieving eyes, unable to comprehend how this could be happening to her after millenia of living.

_'We are not as immortal as we like to think_ ' thought Cas somewhat sadly as the harpy finally slumped down, her talons relaxing and freeing his wings. He dropped the dead body to the ground in an ignoble heap and turned his attention to the hunter. Dean stared back, the bloodied demon blade still clenched tightly in his fist.

“Hello, Dean,” greeted the angel.

 

xXxXxXx

 

Dean hadn't realized how hard it would be to discreetly bury a harpy. Of course, Celano hadn't made it any easier as she had stayed in her monster form after death, rather than conveniently transforming back into her human form like Dean had hoped. Cas had been too hurt to transport her anywhere, so the pair had the odd task of dragging an ancient bird-human hybrid monster through the back alleys of a respectable, small mountain town and then digging a harpy-sized grave in the middle of the woods.

Dean let out a tired sigh as he pulled on clean jeans and a Metallica t-shirt, followed by a well-worn flannel shirt. The talon punctures on his sides were sore and slightly swollen, but didn't appear to be too deep. He had patched himself up as best as he could, once again regretting the absence of his little brother who was definitely the better medic of the two.

He stepped out of the small bathroom into his hotel room, ignoring the grimy feeling of the carpet underneath his bare feet. The room was dingy and rather hideous. The proprietor was apparently a fan of Victorian decor; Dean had never seen so many doilies in his life. Ever surface was covered with one of the tatted monstrosities; even the placard listing the adult channels sat perched on a lace doily. The bedspread was covered in  _pink rosebuds_ of all things and there was a salmon-colored, heart-shaped pillow made of cheap velour in the middle.

Castiel sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring vacantly at his surroundings. His gaze lacked it's usual curiosity. He glanced over at the Dean and smiled wanly. 

“Well, that wasn't how I had planned to spend my evening,” he quipped.

Dean let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, it wasn't in my plans either. I'm just glad you showed up! How did you find me anyway?” Dean's thoughts flickered to the fact that he actual angel warding etched into his sternum. He absentmindedly rubbed his chest.

“I tried to call you earlier, but you didn't answer your phone.” Cas gave him a sly smile. “I assume you shut it off for some particular reason?”

“Hey! She didn't start off as a bird-bitch!” countered Dean, as he flopped down onto an oversized arm chair covered in a print of lilacs and began cleaning the demon blade.

Castiel laughed, and Dean couldn't help grinning. When they had first met, the angel had seemed emotionless, almost cruel, and even as he began to warm up to Dean and Sam, he had a certain social awkwardness that seemed to hinder him in expressing himself. So when he was able to make Castiel actually laugh, like now, Dean couldn't help feeling a sort of gloating elation. The happiness faded though as he noticed Cas wince slightly and shift his shoulders. 

“Anyway,” the angel said, segueing back into his original conversation. “I called Sam to find where you were. He told me you had come here on a hunt, so I followed after. It only took me a few moments to search the entire town. I'm glad I found you when I did...”

“Eh, I had it under control,” muttered Dean, shrugging nonchalantly. “Not that I don't appreciate your assistance. You should have seen yourself. It was like some sort of winged cat fight....” 

Castiel snorted and then grimaced again, rolling his shoulders as if bothered by some deep ache. Dean put down the blade and studied his friend. He couldn't see any visible injuries and he knew that Cas could usually quickly heal any damage done to his vessel. 

“What?” asked Castiel, widening his blue eyes and trying to appear innocent. He failed miserably.

“You're hurt,” accused Dean, standing and shuffling over to his overnight bag. He rummaged through, pulling out a bottle of liquor and bandages. He held them out in Cas' direction. “Come on, let me patch you up.”

Castiel looked flustered. “My vessel is fine, Dean.”

“You're in pain. I can tell,” answered the hunter in a no-nonsense tone, the one he had perfected over the years of taking care of his wayward little brother.

“It's....it's my wings,” murmured Castiel. He clasped his hands in his lap and looked embarrassed.

“Ooookay,” said Dean, dragging out the word. He flashed Cas a boyish grin. “Come on, dude, it's not like I've never seen them before.”

Castiel gave him a chastising look. “My wings are a manifestation of my true nature. You....you have trouble tolerating....”

“Oh,” said Dean, recalling the first time they “met” before Castiel took on his human vessel. Instead of hearing the angel's voice, all he heard was a high-pitched whine that made glass shatter and his nose and ears bleed. Even now with Cas using Jimmy Novak as a vessel, the same unpleasant noise was audible when he manifested his angelic nature. “Listen, Cas, I'll suck it up. I can handle it long enough to....” He trailed off and shrugged, not sure how much good his care would be on a cosmic being, but determined to do something to alleviate the angel's discomfort. 

Castiel hesitated and then nodded, before closing his eyes and concentrating. Dean cringed as the tell-tale noise filled the room. It became almost unbearable and then there was a sound of unfurling and Castiel's wings snapped open. Doilies that weren't anchored down by something fluttered in the air current and Cas managed to knock over the bedside lamp. 

Dean blinked rapidly in surprise. Normally, Castiel's wings seemed to be nothing more than a black presence. Castiel had explained once that his wings were actually just a shadow of his energy imposing itself on reality. It took a great amount of energy to completely manifest his wings. Dean didn't have much time to admire the outstretched, dapple gray wings when Cas let out a cry and drew them back to his sides, hunching over. His face was pale and sweat beaded along his forehead.

“Oh, shit,” cursed Dean, realizing that manifesting his wings had caused Castiel greater pain. He rushed forward, his arms outstretched. “Dammit, Cas, I'm sorry...”

“It's fine, Dean,” he answered with a weak smile. He reached out, his hand dancing over his right wing which was noticeably missing feathers in several places. “If you could hurry...”

Dean uncorked the bottle, pouring the alcohol over the worse spots, unconcerned for the delicate rose-covered comforter underneath the angel. “Is this even going to help?” asked Dean, feeling useless as he put down the bottle and began running his fingers across the glossy feathers, feeling for breaks.

“My wings would heal themselves in time, but a harpy's talons are less than sanitary. This should speed up the process...”

“Okay,” replied Dean. He ran his hands gently across Castiel's wing, marveling at the feel of the sleek feathers beneath his fingertips. “I don't feel any breaks...” The hunter looked down and was surprised by the sappy, sentimental smile on the angels' face. “What is it?” he asked almost defensively. 

“It's just...”he paused, as if trying to collect his thoughts. “While I can feel things,” Castiel explained, reaching up and resting his finger tips against Dean's arm. “It's through the medium of my vessel. It's not....direct contact. But my wings....they're a part of my true nature. When you touch them, you're touching _me.”_

Dean's heart did a funny little stutter and he hastily pulled his hand back. He laughed uneasily, feeling off kilter by the sudden shift in the atmosphere in the room. It was becoming uncomfortably intimate, and the hunter wasn't sure exactly how to react.

“OK, well, before the petting turns into heavy petting...” he joked, internally cringing as he words sounded almost flirtatious.

Castiel frowned up at him, tilting this head to the side. “I don't under-”

“Understand, yeah, I know,” cut off Dean, desperate for this conversation to go anywhere else but where it seemed to be going. Thankfully at that moment, his cell phone began to ring. He hurried over, leaving the confused angel on his bed. The caller ID said “Sam” and he let out an audible sigh of relief.

“What's up, Sammy?” he greeted his little brother.

“Hey, so get this,” began the younger Winchester and Dean had to stifle a laugh. “I think I know what it is you're hunting....”  
“A harpy,” interrupted Dean. “Yeah, I figured it out already. Don't worry, me and Cas dealt with it.”

There was a long pause on the line as Sam clearly did not appreciate being cut off. “Well, you're not going to like this, but I've been doing some research....”

“Shocking....”

“Dean, will you shut up and listen?” reproached Sam, exasperation leaking into his voice. “So I was doing some _research_ and there might be more. Harpies. Legend has it there are _three_ known harpies, these sisters...”

Dean groaned loudly and turned to Castiel, holding up two fingers and mouthing the word “harpies.” Cas smiled wryly and tapped his ear to indicate he could hear, mouthing “celestial being” back. 

“So,” continued Sam. “I ran a search of crimes matching the ones that led you there and there seem to be similar incidences in a small town about fifty miles from you, just over the Tennessee border. Small mountain town, local men going missing. Reports of birds acting strangely. Anyway, I'll rent a car and head that way and meet you there?”

“We're on our way,” Dean answered, tiredly rubbing his free hand across his face. 

“See ya there, Dean,” said Sammy, hanging up without another word.

Dean snorted. “And you say I'm like dad,” he groused at the cellphone. He turned back to Castiel. He was still sitting patiently on the edge of the bed, only now he was sans wings. Dean felt a wave of relief. He refused to even acknowledge the flutter of regret. He quickly moved to begin packing his bags, focusing his attention on the business at hand, on the next hunt. There was always another hunt. Dean turned reached in his pocket, pulling out the keys to the Impala and tossing them to Cas. 

“Can I drive?” asked Castiel eagerly, his face lighting up.

“Oh, hell no,” retorted Dean, ignoring Cas' crestfallen expression. “Go wait in the car. I'll be out in a few.”

Fifteen minutes later, Dean had checked out and the pair were on their way down the highway. The full moon hung low over the horizon, bathing the road ahead of them in an eerie light. A glance at Cas showed that the angel was staring out the window at the moonlight-bathed landscape whizzing past. For a brief moment, Dean thought about reaching out and resting his hand on top of Cas'. He wondered if Cas would move his hand to let their fingers intertwine. 

Instead, Dean focused on the road ahead and the passing mile markers, his fingers tapping out the beat to the music on the steering wheel. He focused on the hunt before him and not the angel beside him. Dean turned up the volume on the radio, making conversation impossible. So he couldn't say all the things that he wanted to say. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to just be a one-shot and I was mostly using it as an excuse to ignore a longer piece I'm working on that I'm struggling with writer's block. But I thought it would make a nice little mini-series, so this is part one of three. The series title is inspired by mythology - Virgil names three harpy sisters in his works. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. ^_^;


End file.
